


More Than Just One Night

by Envision_Everything



Series: A Moment in the Mind of [1]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, Angst, BAMF Demelza, Choices, Confrontations, Demelza deserves better, Desperation, Emotional Roller Coaster, F/M, Honesty, Introspection, One Shot Collection, Realization, Someone punch Ross Poldark in the face, Standing Firm, Turmoil
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-12-06
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:24:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Envision_Everything/pseuds/Envision_Everything
Summary: She deserved better but she craved him and there was nothing fair about that, nothing right, nothing good. So she would give him honesty and she would give herself space. Time would decide their fate because she was no longer in a place to be trusted with such a choice.Now a collection.





	1. Problems of Complexity Are... Well, Complex

**Author's Note:**

> So I discovered Poldark neigh a week ago and its ruined my life. Like, how do you live with this ish? There needs to be more angst *cough* Ross needs to be struck in his emotionally infantile face *cough* so I took up the mantle. Additionally, when I really look at it from D's perspective, how sh*tty is her situation? I feel for her and I adore her so this is what flowed out of me at 2am- an angst riddled ode to strong women.

“Has it come too late?” The question resonated in the quiet for a moment, Demelza’s green eyes flickered about the room attempting to find the answer. “Demelza?” Finally dragging her gaze to meet his own, not a word came to mind in response. Because this was the question wasn’t it? It was quiet for a time, his hands gripping her arm and fingers in a steely hold.

Finally the grip began to tighten as her silence seemed to answer the query. Breaking eye contact Demelza withdrew her hands and pressed her palms onto the table top to aid her in standing. Fiddling with the shirt on the table that still needed mending, she began to speak. The tone was conversational, flat in its fictitiously casual way she so rarely used, mostly around those she distrusted.

“I’ve written to Verity.” She did not turn, the needle stuck in one of the shirt sleeves, tucked between the fabrics to protect her from its sharp end whilst tidying the area. “I’ve done her a great disservice, not callin’ on her in all this time.” A false smile stretched across her face as she folded the article in her hands. “Me and Jeremy will be visitin’ her a while, helpin’ around her home where can, before the babe comes.” Having finished the task, she kept her head down but flicked her eyes to see her husband still as stone, eyes glazed over as he stared just past her waist with a blank look across his face.

“Jinny’ll be round more, helpin’ Prudie while I be gone. She’s that glad about the extra work I’m su-“

“How long will you be gone?” The question cracked like a whip, tensions rising in the room quicker than Demelza had been prepared for. She swallowed thickly when she met his gaze. It burned her, scorched across her skin before burrowing deep into her bones until finally igniting her chest and belly.

Ross’s gaze had always been incredibly capable of setting her aflame, but never in this way. When they first wed his eyes would follow her about the room as she worked or at the end of the day as she readied herself for bed. In those moments, as he tracked her, the fire would start in her belly and send an ache below and above, her heart would pound unevenly as shivers ran down her spine. Some days all her blood would rush to her face as it reached for him, even her body seemed to crave his nearnress, in such a visceral way. The heat he coaxed out of her never made her feel exposed or vulnerable in the way it did now. This was not a look of want from her husband, but one of… of what? She could not discern his feelings any more than she could dictate the sun to rise and set.

Gathering her courage she lifted her head to meet his gaze head on. A tremor wracked her frame at the glint of it, flint like darkness ready to devour her whole. Demelza held her head high, allowing her ire, momentarily forgotten under his perusal, to strengthen her resolve and allowed it to solidify her spine straight and solid.

“I don’t rightly know.” Her words had the desired effect, Ross reared back a moment, blinking once, twice, a third time before shifting his gaze away from her. A tick in his jaw, clenching of his hands which still lay on the table top where she had broken his grasp on her arm, were the only responses he gave.

“Now is not the time to be off gallivanting across the country side,” his voice was clipped, holding no argument. He was _dismissing_ her and her choices as he always did when they did not suit him.

“I’m afeared that Verity is expecting me now. It’s been arranged and-“

“Then unarranged it.” He rose, back straight as a board with a dark look, one he normally reserved for those who crossed him. This was one of the moments Demelza knew would be forthcoming to a reckoning.

“I will not,” she stated plainly. The wind outside, the rustling of the trees and the sounds of animals echoed in the room. Light poured in from the open windows lighting up corners and dancing across both his face and her own. Yet, though the world seemed at peace, the day bright and sunny, there was no contentment within the walls of Nampara. It was the meeting of two powers, great each in their own right. Titans standing and facing one another in battle.

Demelza refused to break first. She would not look away, she would not allow him to dictate her doings when it was convenient and disregarding her when it was not. He did not see, not truly, that her ire and scorn was not born of a singular night. No, it was born of so much more than that. He disrespected her one to many times, made it clear over and over again that his time was always better spent elsewhere.

Hers was not a complaint of simple infidelity of his body, but an infidelity of his mind, heart, and energy. How many times had she needed him, only to discover he had left to visit Trenwith? How many days had he spent loving and nurturing the son that was not his own? How many nights had she awaited his return only to discover he stopped over in town or elsewhere instead of coming home?

It was never just about a night with Elizabeth, it was about his _months_ with Elizabeth. She saw neither hide nor hair of him for days and the moments she did see him were spent in either stilted conversation about the mine and her cousin or silence which seemed to ring even louder than his scornful comments about whatever struck his fancy that day. He had forfeited her trust, that was true, but not in a single night.

What was the point of their union as husband and wife when she was simply his house maid once more? She took care of his home but not his heart, she cared for his child but he did not take an interest in her or their son. This was long fated, for she, a simple miner’s daughter from Ilagan, had always been resigned to knowledge that the great Ross Poldark would one day no longer be satisfied with playing happy husband to someone he deemed so far below him. For no matter how many times he spoke of her status change, no matter how he encouraged her lady-like behavior, there were a hundred more moments in which he looked down upon her with disdain for her failings. Words he spoke of love overshadowed by actions he made of dismissal.

Francis’ words rung in her ears on days like today. He had gotten to the heart of the matter in a simple few words. Words which always teased at the edge of her consciousness but never full settled into a rightful place. They never took root, for her sense of self often prevented such beliefs to prosper.

She deserved better. It was not a thought she had ever truly believed, but the idea stuck. She deserved _better than what Ross Poldark gave her_. If her foray into the high class society party had taught her anything (aside from a damnable commitment to her vows) was that Ross was not the only man to have found her desirable. She may not be bred from money or come from genteel stock, but she was every inch the lady he had made her and she wanted more than to be treated as she was now.

“You are needed here and will not abandoned your duties because of your-“

“I leave on the morrow. I will send word when we’ve arrived safely.” She turned to quit the room when she was blocked on her exit.

“You are not. Leaving. This. House.” There was a menace in his words that startled her, eyes widening as the look on his face grew in intensity. It reminded her so of when he turned to find her standing in his mother’s old silk dress. That night was so long ago now. What trials they had endured, what love they had shared since that fateful night, the surrender to passion that started this mess of a marriage. The flash of fear was soon replaced by blistering rage that boarded on hatred.

“Release me,” her tone was cold and low, one she had never used on her beloved husband- even in her angriest of moments. He took another step towards her, his grip pulling her flush against his body as he leaned down. Face inches from her own, his dark curls fell forward and shadowed his eyes making them seem fiercer than before.

“You are not leaving Nampara. You will write to Verity and apologize, for you must put off your visit a while yet.” It was the commanding attitude that set her off.

“I will write no such letter! I will leave on the morrow and I will visit my cousin because I fancy it!”

“Do as I bid you.” He shot back without a second thought.

“I will not!” She was breathing hard now, chest heaving with indignation. “Be happy Ross, you can entertain Elizabeth when you wish without having to journey to Tren-“

Her words were cut off by the crash of his lips on her own. The hand that gripped her arm kept her close to him while the other bracketed around her waist like a band of iron. He kissed her like the world would end if they stopped. It was fueled with anger and longing, with a taste of… panic? Demelza could not identify such a state, as she never had she seen her husband so out of control. He clutched at her with a bruising force that sent a ripple down her torso.

Demelza did not realize they were moving until her back hit the wooden planks of the wall. The course surface scratched against her dress for a moment, her hair caught on the uneven wood before Ross released the grip on her arm to drive his hand into the riot of red curls at the back of her head. Using the new found leverage he angled her mouth to better access it with his tongue, hips pressed insistently against her own pinned her between the heat of his body and cool touch of the wall. For a moment she was lost in the feel of him but then broke their connection with a turn of her head. It did not seem to deter him.

“You will not leave,” he kissed down her neck, nose nudging against her pulse point as his teeth scraped her shoulder. “You will not leave me Demelza,” his voice broke on her name, hand spasming in her hair. “You will not, you will never… never Demelza. You can’t and I… I can’t, I _can’t_ -” his words slurred as he pressed his face further into her skin, clutching onto her to the point of pain.

“Ross-“ he cut her off once more, lips sliding from her cheek to her lips. She felt it now, his desperation. The panic he so often was able to quell came pouring from him. He tried to hold it back but some slipped through the cracks and stained his voice and countenance. Her eyes slid shut as she took a fortifying breathe. She pushed firmly against his chest, eyes focused over his shoulder as she did so. It took a moment, but he relented his hold minutely, enough to lean back and see her face.

“I will go to Verity,” she stated it in a warm voice but the firm decision there did little to appease him. His eyes widened a fraction and filled with the kind of agony she had never known him capable.

“Demelza… I,” he looked so lost, his eyes searching hers as his breathing came out in short sharp breaths. “I will fix this. I swear it. I _swear_ it.” She saw him standing at the precipice, the begging in his tone easily distinguishable. Power surged through her veins then. She felt as if a single word would push him the last bit of distance and he would fall, he would fall and he would _shatter_.

“I do not know if you can,” it was not in her nature to be cruel, especially not to the man she had loved for more of her life than she would like to admit. But honesty was what they needed now. She could no longer play the happy house wife whose gentle words and forgiving ways made him act so brazenly without even an _apology_. Demelza hated to admit it, but she resented him, she resented him almost as much as she loved him because he had taken her and he had _decimated_ her in his endeavor to own her. Never would she love a man like she did the one before her. Even if they did break their bond no person would ever compare to him, he who lifted her from the dirt, dusted her off, and gave her a home before giving her his name. Ross engrained himself into her bones, his name etched into every inch of her and nothing would undo that. 

She deserved _better_ but she craved _him_ and there was nothing fair about that, nothing right, nothing good. So she would give him honesty and she would give herself space. Time would decide their fate because she was no longer in a place to be trusted with such a choice.

She began to disentangle from their embrace as he went slack at her pronouncement. As she slipped from his grasp his hand rose and slid down her arm as she moved away before tangling their fingers together. Demelza did not turn nor did he approach her again. It was a whisper of a word when he spoke, a broken kind of tone that sent pain shooting through her, knocking into her bones and organs as it tore her apart from the inside out.

 _“Please_ ,” it was hoarse, the word dragged from the depths of his chest to be pushed out with such weight it must have left wounds in his throat. A singular word encompassing everything he wanted and desired, everything he _needed_. But Demelza was no longer able to give him what he needed, for the man behind her made that clear with every day he was away and every night he ignored her.

Untangling their hands she left the room without a word. 


	2. A Trek Most Ponderous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traveling to visit Verity leaves much time for contemplation and reflection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOOOOOOOOOOOO I've decided what I'm going to do now. This will most likely never be a true narrative story, no cohesive plot, but a selection of one-shot type reflections from Demelza's POV. In accordance, I will add chapters to "Has it Come Too Late?" in a similar fashion, all from Ross' POV. They will tie together, (example, chapter two of 'HiCTL' will be a peek into Ross' mind during the separation and such). Anyway, thank you to everyone who commented and left kudos!

****

Jeremy Poldark was a saint. For a boy so young of age he truly was a marvel, a study in obedience most days. True, he had a very stern mother who loved him dearly and yes, his father was often away and Prudie and Jud were the cruelest of keepers. But for all of the pitfalls living in Nampara, the young boy was content.

He did not scream and cry, thrash and rage, he sat and listened to his mother. Give or take fidgeting and hyper energy during his day, especially around play time, the boy was well behaved. All that said, today was a new day, in a new place, on a long journey and Jeremy Poldark was not so saint like. The carriage ride was long, his bum was sore and his toys were forever tucked away in the bags that adorned the roof- far out of his reach. Jeremy Poldark was _unhappy_.

Demelza sighed, fingers carding through his wild hair. The fidgets increased in intensity and frequency, his face turning a bit red with his continued frustration. It was nearing the three hour mark in their stuffy little carriage, the air a bit musty with so long in an enclosed space. The rocky roads made for a rather jostled journey and the men about them were rather uninterested in conversation or merriment.  Overall, it had been a dull ride to their destination.

Rousing her son from his sleep earlier than usual this morn had not been well received. Though he was normally a rather amiable young thing, rising before the sun seemed to be a ghastly sin against him. He spoke in fractured sentences these days, his words becoming more complete but still not fully formed. He had grouched from the moment she stroked his forehead. Though she had told him they would be going on an adventure to see aunt Verity, when the moment came for him to be prepared for such an adventure he was rather unapologetically difficult. There were days Demelza feared for her son, on this day she simply feared him in general.

There was the question, always floating in the back of her mind, of whether he could sense the change in their home. Ross had put words to her unvoiced fear one night in his study. “He must wonder why I sleep here now,” he had said, and Demelza felt the words sink into her heart. Yes, she agreed- he must wonder. All Demelza wanted now was for her son to be raised loved and validated, but could she do that while her marriage with his father fell to pieces? Turning down to watch her son fiddle with the miniature horse in his hands her memories drifted to this morning once more.

Bag in hand, Jeremy dressed, breakfast consumed, she was ready to walk them both to the road marker in which the carriages stopped to pick up passengers. It was not a long trek, but it would seem like a crossing to the other side of the world to her 3 year old. So she had stood at the doorway a moment before dropping the case in her hands and dropping to her knees.

“Jeremy, remember what we’re doing today?” Her voice was chipper, a happy lilt to it, smile wide but false. It never quite reached her eyes these days, she imagined.

“We’wr goin’ un a advernture,” he said sleepily. One little fist came up to rub at his eyes, still sand in them no doubt.

“That’s right! We get to go see Auntie Verity. Aren’t you excited?” He simply nodded wearily in response, eyes shining with the glaze of drowsiness. Smiling she went on while his attention was hers. “An adventure may not always seem so grand but that’s okay. I need you to be a big boy for me, can ye do that Jeremy?” Looking a bit more alert he nodded in earnest before blinking mildly.

Going to stand she ran one hand along his head, down to his shoulders before giving him a squeeze. Rising from her crouch, Demelza reached for her bag. Running through the logistics of their march to the coach marker she missed the appearance of a rather stern looking man behind her. The excited voice of her 3 year old rectified this almost immediately.

“Da!” Turning to watch her husband smile wide, eyes shining in happiness as his son came barreling at him, she cringe slightly. Ross stooped low, one knee hitting the ground, arms opened wide before promptly wrapping around Jeremy’s little body. Green eyes shifting to the ground, Demelza did nothing but wait out the pulsing pain in her chest.

It was hardest in moments like this. There was just something so disarming about the way he was with their son. While he had spent _months_ with Geoffrey Charles she could not deny his affections when Jeremy and he were together. In some of her darkest moments Demelza wanted him to scorn their son, to turn away from him. It would be easier to justify taking him away, pulling away from their marriage- from _him_. The thought would filter through and be banished with disgust on her part. What kind of selfish woman was she, to wish her son ill for her own gain?

A shudder ran through her before a wave of discontentment followed after it. This time they would spend apart would be well spent. She needed time, needed the distance to fully come to terms with all that he had done. Perspective is what she sought and it was elusive in the presence of her husband’s laughing eyes and dour moods. Wisdom could not be sought when emotion was reigning in earnest where she dwelled.

“Demelza?” His voice was low, a gravel to his tone. But as always, he seemed to caress the sounds of her name with a sort of familiar acknowledgement. It was never sweet or honeyed when he said her name, not like it was when he spoke Elizabeth’s, it was hardier, earthier in its pronouncement. Resentment hit her like a strike to her chest.

“We shall send word after Verity receives us.” It was clipped she knew, the tone rather bland. The air about her moved as he drew closer but he stopped short. Turning back to kneel before his son a whisper in the boy’s ear caused the young boy’s whole demeanor to perk up. Nodding frantically he fled the room a flurry. Standing once more, he turned to answer her obvious question.

“I informed him there was a package that seemed to be addressed to one Jeremy Poldark in my study. I requested he fetch it for me.” His voice was amused, eyes crinkled at the sides. He was happy in that moment, standing proud in his front hall before his wife. Demelza wondered at his ability to take the stance of a man who had no weight upon him when quite the opposite was true. How could he stand there and pretend, play happy families while her world was slowing peeling away like the decretive papers the rich plastered to their walls?

When she remained quiet Ross seemed to take it upon himself to engage her in conversation. He asked after her packing, if she had sufficient funds for the journey, if she knew the way to Verity or if she required directions. When he insisted she take the northers carriage service due to the fact she was a woman traveling unaided by a man, her patience abandoned her.

“I am quite capable of carin’ for and watchin’ after me own son Ross Poldark!” It was a quick bark, hands flying to her hips on principle. The look on his face was not what she wanted in response to her pronouncement. He looked, _amused_ , by her ‘little display’ she was sure.

“I am quite aware you are capable,” his voice was laced with humor and Demelza swore she felt her fingers twitch to strike him once more. “I am simply attempting to ascertain your preparedness for travel without-“

“Without supervision? Oi, I looked after me self _long_ before you came along!” His face did not darken in anger but his expression noticeably dimmed. Looking away she watched as his eyes slid shut and when her eyes flickered down she saw his fists spasm at his side.

“Da! Look!” Jeremy came bounding into the hall, eyes alight with happiness as he thrust the brown paper wrapped package in his father’s direction. Ross snapped his head back to look at his son, dark hair rustled by the jerking movement. His smile, far from genuine, looked a bit pained. Before Demelza could truly catalogue it he was on his knees once again.

“It appears you have found it! Maybe you should open it eh?” Before the sentence was complete he was tearing the paper from the object within. Finding the treasure under the layers of its confinement Jeremy gasped when he laid eyes on the carved wooded horse in its midst. It was a black, like Darkie, and was frozen in a galloping stance. It was lovely, the little thing. Demelza smiled grimly but ensured her features were fixed when her son came barreling to her, posturing it about in her direction in excitation.

“Thank yur father Jeremy,” he did just that, little arms wrapped around his father with a slurred ‘thank you’ on his lips. The scene caused another fierce wrench in the Ilagan native. Looking at the display, tall and broad, prideful elegance in his every movement and every stance; with all the good breeding the world could offer and yet here he was, Ross Poldark, on his knees before the little boy who barely reached his thigh. Offspring of the _help_ , a kitchen wench, but his eyes, his eyes looked upon the mop of wavy hair as if he was the most revered of kings.

Green eyes flickered away from the production of what she had believed to be their love, to the man whom she often wondered about. Considering him with a sharp and penetrating gazed he lifted his own gaze to meet her eye. It was a silent moment, Jeremy content as he released his father but kept near him while admiring his newest acquisition.

With all of her, every last inch, foot to crown, she ached for this man. He was her landmarked everything, her _first_ everything. Now was the trouble of detangling the mess of emotions stirring about in her belly. How much of her love for Ross Poldark was inextricably tied to the fact he was the first and only man she had ever known biblically? The father of her children, her master, her _humble servant_ , her husband. Was it the man himself, or simply all that he had embodied to her for the past six years of life? Could she love another given the chance, or was what she felt truly a singular, uncommon occurrence she would never find again?

So little acquainted with men, so little acquainted with the world. If she had been, say, four or five years older than she was when taken into this house, would the outcome have been the same or radically different? If he had stopped over in town the night she meant to leave Nampara, would he have gone to fetch her, to beg her back to his home and his bed? The answer to that last question was a clear and resounding _no._

It took months of actual marriage for the man to feel anything more than quaint, distant affection for her. If they had not taken to bed that night and she not given into her childish infatuation with him where would she be? Surely Ross would have won over Elizabeth at some point, he would have moved her into Nampara perhaps? Or perchance, in his good fortune, his cousin would have met an earlier end and he would have taken his rightful place at Trenwith. Francis barely cold in the ground-

Breaking eye contact Demelza cut off the thought as deep seeded sadness and disgust with her own judgements flooded her. She knew how terribly hard Francis’ passing had been on Ross. Though she would not consider herself privy to his thoughts, she knew her husband. Or at least, she thought she did. Maybe his grief had not been as pure as she once believed. Tears threatened to fall at the thought.

What a mess this all was. Such an ugly, complicated, convoluted _mess_.

“Jeremy, we must leave now,” her voice caught as she spoke the last few words and she was far too aware of her husband’s eyes boring holes into the side of her face in that moment. Looking down at her precious, _precious_ boy she felt the smile come a bit more genuinely than before. “Fetch yur cloak now,” she stated when she realized he must have lost it in his tussle to find his gift. Fleeing the scene once more he returned quickly, a bright smile upon his face, cloth hoisted high in one hand while the other clutched the horse to his chest.

Busying herself with tying the strings quickly she rambled on about seeing Verity and how she would soon have a babe like he used to be. It was nonsense truly, nothing worth its weight. But no matter the blandness of the words it gave the pretense of a viable reason as to the obvious avoidance of the man standing sentry not five feet from her.

“Say bye-bye to your Da,” she said, eyes still down. Another round of hugs, another possible ache. This time, Demelza worried the bag, pretending to check its contents. She would not watch this time, as they parted ways. It hurt enough to know that at some point in the trip, though she dearly hoped later rather than sooner, her son would miss his Da. Asking after Ross had been a normative occurrence the past few months, this would no doubt differ little from the pattern.

Words spoken in rich baritone made the mother bite her lower lip. Cravings had hit the second week she had banished him to the cot in his study. Not just for the physicality of their relationship, though those had increased exponentially, but for the gentle touch of his body cradling her own in the darkness. Heat radiated from him, it wrapped around her and warmed her blood, her heart, her _soul_. Often the wife felt as if she had turned her back on the hearth in the kitchen when he snuck into their bed late into the night, after she had already retired. The cold had been sharp and bone deep now that she slept alone.

It was difficult, to be near him, to hear his voice and not remember, for there was _so_ much to remember.

Jeremy scampered over to her side, eyes still transfixed on the figure he held close and Demelza smiled. Her boy was sweet, was so grateful for his father. He did not know, of course he did not he was far too young, that there was another little boy that adored his father. And perhaps, there was a little boy his father adored more.

“You shall send word when you’ve arrived?” Looking up she saw the caution in his stance and recognized it in his tone. They had just settled this very matter but Demelza suspected it was the only thing he could think to speak in the moment.

“Aye,” it was all she had to say, her only response to give. “Come along Jeremy,” she stated directly after and turn towards the door.

“Demelza! I-“ his voice caught a moment, and fixing her eyes on him she saw one hand drop away from where it had reached for her. A quick flick down and she saw both fists clenched, white knuckled, at his side. Clearing his throat and turning to look away for a moment, he finally snapped his attention back to her.

“I shall miss you.” It was came out as whisper, almost a solemn vow in its intensity. “I will… more than you will ever truly know,” craning his neck to the right his eyes flittered about before the silence seemed to be her only response given. “Travel safely,” and he quit the room in two quick and hard strides.

“OI! All headin’ for the docks, this be yur stop!” the voice of the carriage man ripped her from her memories, making her jerk violently. Jeremy who had fallen asleep with the rocking motions of the carriage and soothing ministrations of his mother’s hand in his hair came to with little difficulty. Smiling wide she informed him they had arrived at their destination.

“Oh my dears!” Verity had prattled on with such a bubbling excitement Demelza’s troubles washed away in the wave of her affection towards the cousin standing before her. The glow was upon her, Demelza was sure to mention that. The babe had expanded her stomach and it would be little time before she was an aunt in her own right.

It was a flurry after that. The preparation for the babe was a joyous time and consuming of most of Demelza’s attentions. Verity asked her so many questions about child rearing and tending. It was odd for her to be the teacher in this moment to Ross’ cousin. Had this great lady not been her teacher but a scant few years previous? To the best of her ability Demelza answered the queries thrown in her direction, hoping anything she said would calm the neurotic woman before her.

It was not until nearly a week later that she received the letter which burst her happy bubble.

“Demelza, a letter comes for you this morn!” Verity smiled wide, chattering on about how her cousin could not go but a few days without his beloved wife. “I would dare say he would starve without Prudie there to cook for him while you’re away,” the joke did not invoke a smile from the red head, but she set her lips in what she hoped was the response her cousin sought. Taking the letter from between dainty fingers, Demelza turned it over in her hands, worrying the edges with nervous touches.

“I’ll keep an eye on Jeremy Demelza. Perhaps you could stroll along the shore line?” It was a gentle suggestion and it made the wife realize her attempt at a smile had probably not been as successful as previously hoped. With a quick thank you Demelza snatched up her cloak and quit the room.

So here she sat, rock beneath her lifting her from the sandy beach below her dangling legs, attention caught between the ocean waves and the letter she held in nearly equal measure. When she had asked Verity to send to Ross that they had received without incident there was no indication that he would respond with a letter of his own.

She was being dramatic she knew. He most likely had a spare moment and made sure to scold her for her penmanship or once again cite the irresponsibility of her choice to leave at such a crucial time. Perchance he was informing her not to return at all! Elizabeth’s impending marriage had always been questionable at best. Without Demelza there as a source of obligation his visit to her home and her bed was most likely immediate!

Scolding herself, Demelza shook her head, hair flying loose about her, ridding herself of her thoughts. Looking down she took a deep shaky breath before breaking the seal of the letter and unfolding its contents.

_My Dearest Demelza,_

_I am obliged to you for sending word of your immediate reception. Jeremy was some hassle I anticipate, for I do not think he has ever made such a protracted trek before now. Verity endeavored to impart her thankfulness in my lending of your person to her company. I found such a notion to be foolish in its assumption. I do not believe I will ever have such a grand power as to dictate your engagements._

_You may wish to know that Jinny is indeed a cook of merit. Though I have yet to meet another whose skill dares rival your own, I am forever indebted to Jinny, for I will not be subjected to Prudie’s attempts at provision during the length of your pilgrimage._

_The mine continues to prosper, the miners are hard pressed to quit their work now that such fortune awaits their toil. The tin load may be even of a larger size than previously thought. I wish you to know all debts have been settled in our household and prices hold steady._

_Upon your return we shall endeavor a trip to town. There are many articles I wish for us to procure and I am certain there are numerous you so desire for as well. Perhaps we could bring Jeremy along in accompaniment. Surely his newest acquisition is in need of company, a rider for such a horse perhaps? Please endeavor to consider the logistics while away that we may make haste after the two of you arrive home._

_Be well my love,_

_Ross Poldark_

It was so utterly her husband in its construction and content Demelza was struck by the monotony of such an innocuous letter. His attempt at communicating to her were always this way. She was akin to a business partner, informed of the practical going-ons of her husband’s affairs but seldom thought of as a lover in need of words of affirmation or affection.

Refolding the letter she pushed it from her mind before standing and beginning the journey back to the house. Though there was so much she wished to address in regards to the letter’s words she would not begin to do so now. Verity was the distraction she needed, and there were many days still to be preoccupied with her thoughts, all revolving around a single man.


End file.
